


When Hurts Heal Badly

by FossilizedGrablin



Series: Unnamed Series of Pointless Russingon IDK [3]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Bummer Ending, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Maedhros's awful sense of humor, Mairon being horrid, Past Torture, RIP Mairon's Carpet, Russingon, angband flashbacks, failsex, hurt/comfort/more hurt, major angst, tfw angband ruins ur kinks, the author hurt themself writing this please comfort them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-14 23:05:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13600344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FossilizedGrablin/pseuds/FossilizedGrablin
Summary: Maedhros and Fingon are still trying to make their relationship work. Things don't always work out.





	When Hurts Heal Badly

**Author's Note:**

> There was a particular dynamic of the relationship here that I wanted to explore. I knew it wouldn't turn out well but I did it anyway? I hate being right? 
> 
> But yeah, it was inspired by some discussions about the boys having dom/sub dynamics, but no fun is allowed here, sozz. I'm in pain, send help. (I also apologize for any stupendously atrocious jokes and weird tonal shift, it's a problem I have, I admit it.)

_Angband, the Lietenant's private apartments_

 

Blood trickled in streams down his ribs. It pooled and congealed in the tatters of his back and his breath came in short, ragged sobs. His face pressed into the carpet, which was still wet with spilt wine. He continued to obediently hold his white-knuckled hands behind his head, fingers curled around his damp hair and the loose, golden manacle chains worn by all of Gorthaur’s personal attendants.

“You provide me with a constant conundrum, Maitimo,” said the maia languidly. “It seems like such a waste to damage you like this but you make it so enjoyable. Be grateful that, for the moment, I enjoy you a lot more than I enjoy the rug or that robe. We’ll try not to be so clumsy in the future, won’t we?”

When a reply wasn’t immediately forthcoming, Gorthaur gave him a sharp and expertly-aimed blow to the ribs with the metallic handle of his whip, which did at least elicit another sob of agony. “You won’t be the only one to suffer if something like this happens again, Maitimo. Don’t act as if I’m not being lenient. Imagine if you had done that to the Moringotto, hm? This way it’s only a small, personal infraction. One which shall not be repeated, will it.”

It wasn’t a question but he answered anyway. “No, master.” The hoarse words tasted bitter, but perhaps that was just blood from where he had bitten his tongue.

He got a less-than-gentle nudge to his already bruised ribs with the metal toe of Gorthaur’s boot. “Must I pry an apology from your filthy lips, slave?” He sounded more bored than angry, but his tone was never to be trusted. He could only flinch as the maia’s voice invaded his mind _My patience has its limits,_ he said with the same deceptive level of disinterest, _and I don’t have to actually kill you to be rid of you. Interpret that as you will_.

“I apologize, master. I’m… I’m sorry, master.” At this point he truly was, if only for the trouble he’d made for himself. Pointless, pointless, stupid and pointless. He’d seen Gorthaur slit Elven throats for less, but he himself wouldn’t receive such a mercy.

“I am unconvinced.” The maia’s voice was menacingly detached. “Stay there until I tell you you can get up. If you move for anything or anyone while I am out, I will know. We will continue this discussion later.”

 

* * *

_Himring_

 

“This… This is ridiculous.”

“It’s alright, Nelyo, if you don’t feel up to it.”

“It’s not that, it’s just…” Maedhros swallowed and pushed a stray lock of hair out of his face. His shoulder was beginning to dully ache, but it wasn’t that either.

“I would appreciate it if you untied me first, though.” Fingon was sitting on the polished stone floor, hands bound over his head to the bedpost. His clothing was still on but for the most part undone. He looked wonderful, but Maedhros’s mouth had gone completely dry. He made an attempt at a rakish smile anyway.

“I can’t just leave you hanging, can I?” He settled himself over Fingon’s lap. “That would be terrible of me.”

“Only if you left me here all night. I’d be miffed, yes. Honestly Nelyo, I’m not going to enjoy myself if you aren’t.”

Maedhros sighed, jaw clenching in frustration. _We’ll see about that_ , he thought of saying, but it would be admitting to Fingon that he, in fact, wasn’t fully enjoying himself. Despite this, he leaned in, putting his mouth over Fingon’s for a reassuring kiss, willing himself to make it last. He did other things with his hand, and Fingon moaned softly.

“I can’t hear what you’re thinking,” he gasped in protest as Maedhros finally pulled away from him.

“About all the very bad things I’m going to do to you.”

“Ha-ha, you’re so full of it, NelyaAH!” Maedhros had moved in on him again.

“Even deadlier with my left, hm?” He said with a lopsided grin.

Fingon snorted. “Fine, fine. ...Eru, Nelyo, untie me. You’re shaking.”

Maedhros stopped. He was. It had been fine before and he thought he had enough mastery over himself to control his nerves or at least disguise them, but he didn’t.

He didn’t.

Numbly, he took one of the smaller knives he always carried and began to saw through the rope that bound Fingon’s wrists. _I’m sorry,_ he thought, over and over.

Fingon, now free, was straightening his clothes. _Don’t, it’s not your fault_. “Please, I understand.”  

Maedhros was on his knees, leaning up against the bed, trying to focus on his breathing and nothing else. It was fine. He was fine. He only needed to collect himself. _We’ll try again_ , he told Fingon in his thoughts. _It’s not fair to you. I’m fine. I’m fine, just…_ He wasn’t sure what had set him off this time. He had become adept at burying unpleasant memories or simply muscling past them. Even so… _Please,_ he thought again _. I’m annoyed, too. I was looking forward to this. We’ll try again._

“Nelyo…”

“Finno.”

“How many times must I tell you, you don’t have to make excuses? I just want you to feel safe.”

“You were the one who was tied up. I’m very safe. Wait a moment.”

He was being dismissive. He knew he was and he knew it would make Fingon angry, but he had to move past it. Why couldn’t he steady his breathing?

As he expected, Fingon’s brow was creased in a frown. Maedhros returned a pale smile. “I got myself too worked up. I know you enjoy being tied up and... so forth, it’s just,” he chuckled, perhaps too loudly, “it’s just lost its charms for me.”

Fingon blanched.  “Well, I don’t think I’d enjoy it nearly as much with anyone else,” he said earnestly.

_The feeling is very mutual._

Fingon started to speak, but hesitated. Maedhros nodded encouragingly, still stalling for time.

“Perhaps,” he began, “we could try to switch roles.” _It might give you confidence, and I would be very careful._

Maedhros shook his head violently. _Not again. I can’t. Not again._

“No? No! Bad idea, then, I’m sorry.” .

_No, I am._

Fingon gave a desperate shrug. “I don’t know, Nelyo. I don’t know what to do for you.” _I want to help you, but I don’t know how._

Maedhros was finding it harder and harder to speak out loud _. I know. I’m sorry. You do so much, Finno, you’re so patient. I’m a mess._

“Stop apologizing.”

_Sorry_ . “I mean…” Maedhros trailed off. He felt useless. His racing heart still hadn’t slowed. _He had to move past this_. Without moving from where he was, he gestured for Fingon to come closer to him. Fingon did, slowly, keeping a skeptical eye on him.

Maedhros pulled him into an embrace and buried his face in the space between his neck and shoulder, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping him from hurtling into an abyss.

Fingon melted into him and returned the hug, rubbing his back. “Hmm, you’re horrendously tense. Mind if I give you a massage? Give _you_ a little pleasure for once?”

“Shut up, you always please me,” Maedhros mumbled into his hair.

“You’ll feel better. If you want, you can even keep your shirt on. Here, but my hands are freezing, one moment.” Fingon rubbed his hands together briskly and blew on them, then moved around so that he was behind Maedhros. Maedhros didn’t move. If he was tense before, he was even more so now.

Cold hands were something Gorthaur never had. But the orcs often did. The Moringotto did. He caught his thoughts wandering down a dark path and tried to reset them. He was safe. He was still clothed. Fingon was about to give him a massage. He hadn’t had one in… He didn’t remember the last time. He didn’t count anything during the arduous healing process following his rescue. But now? It could be nice.

“Tell me if I hurt you, alright?” Fingon began to work on his shoulders, being more gentle with the troublesome right one but near squeezing the life out of his left. It did hurt but not in a bad way. Maedhros began to relax.

“It’s like squeezing iron cords,” Fingon lamented. “I don’t have the strength for this!”  
“Says the lifelong archer.”

“Exactly! It’s that bad. I’m going lower.” Fingon started to knead around his shoulder blades. Maedhros could tell, even through the wool fabric of his long gray tunic, that his fingers were indeed cold. But it was barely noticable. Until Fingon hit a particular nexus of scars and he winced sharply. “Ah, sorry.” _It still hurts?_

Maedhros made a noncommittal noise in his throat. He hadn’t meant to let Fingon know that much. _You know, some injuries flare up from time to time. It doesn’t hurt so much as it’s just irritating._

_What evil bullshit. Let me know if I get too close._

Maedhros couldn’t help but grin. _Oh, but I deserved that._

“Whatever are you talking about?”

“I once spilled wine on the wretched lieutenant. Though it wasn’t precisely accidental. For no reason in particular, I was just in a foul mood.”

“Unimaginable!”

“It was regrettable at the time, and highly unnecessary… But I’d do it again.”

“I’d do a lot worse than that,” Fingon muttered, continuing his massage with a vengeance.

“Ow, to me or or him?”

“Oh, sorry. Fuck, but you could have been killed!”

“I very nearly was, but I don’t have that sort of fortune.”

Fingon made a sound of disgust and moved his hands back up to Maedhros’s neck. “Understand that if you do manage to get yourself killed, I’ll be vexed. Incredibly vexed. So don’t do that.”

“Doesn’t that just give me more reason to try? _Hsst_ , ow!”

“I’m not sorry for that.”

“Finno, it was a joke, please have mercy on me?”

Fingon had withdrawn his hands and was silent. Maedhros twisted around to face him.

“Finno?”

Fingon was looking away from him, brows drawn together, blue-grey eyes hard. Maedhros felt a twinge of old, irrational panic.

_Finno? Finno, it was only in jest._

_There’s truth behind it, though. I’ve heard your thoughts._

Maedhros felt somehow betrayed. “There’s a reason I went for so long without sharing them,” he said, his voice sounding too petulant in his own ears.   
  
“Listen to me, Nelyo,” Fingon said flatly. “Life has been hard. Eru, it has. I know it’s been particularly hard for you. But I _risked my life_ because I didn’t want to lose you again! I can’t stand it when you act as if your life doesn’t matter. Because it does! It does to me. And it destroys me when you so flippantly dismiss something that I value so highly.”

Maedhros said nothing. His shoulder was aching again. He couldn’t look at Fingon and words caught in his throat. _Perhaps you cling to something that doesn’t really exist as it once did. If it ever did._

At that, Fingon stood up. “Continue to wallow, Nelyafinwě,” he said, hands clenched at his sides. “That’s fine. Sometimes you must, I understand. But don’t throw my concern back in my face and tell me I’m wasting energy on a ghost. I made damn sure I wouldn’t have to. But it is your right to do as you please.”

He didn’t slam the door on the way out, but silence he left behind was deafening enough.

 


End file.
